Lullaby
by BrownEyedRose
Summary: When they decided they were going to close the gates to Hell, they never realized it would be at such a cost. T for major character death


**A/N:** My first Supernatural fic... um.

Obviously I can't write anything nice. Disclaimer... I don't own anything. Never have, never will

* * *

"Back-up required… I repeat, back up required." I said into my radio, standing outside what appeared to be an abandoned factory. It had been on the outskirts of town for as long as anyone could remember. Occasionally, a couple local teenagers would break in and have parties. The woman who lived across the street would call in the early hours of the morning, sounding exhausted, complaining about those "goddamn kids."

But this time it was different. Her call came at noon, and she was panicking. She babbled something about gunshots and bright flashes coming from the building. Looking into it, I couldn't see any sort of disturbance, but it was obvious that someone had come in and never left. A blue car was parked outside, one like the my big brother had driven when we were kids.

"Officer Reynolds?" The neighbor had crossed the street and was standing next to me. "Aren't you gonna check it out?"

I looked down at the woman and put on my best police face. "Course ma'am. I'm just waiting for back up. In the meantime, it would be best if you waited in your home with the blinds shut. Wouldn't want anything to go wrong, you see." The woman gave me a terrified look, and ran away.

The car was the part that interested me the most. It looked clean, and well cared for. Why would anyone abandon it here? Before I could check it out, my radio crackled to life.

"Reynolds… come in Reynolds…."

I snatched the radio, and started to talk, but was cut off before I could get anything out.

"Stop talking for a minute. Go in and check it out… we can't afford to send the entire squad down there for some drunk party. When…."

It made a sad beeping noise, and blinked off. With a sigh, I turned on my heel, and walked in.

The building was dark, and smelled like mold and damp. There didn't seem to be anyone in it, drunk or anyways.

It seemed like that. Until I got in the old cafeteria. The first thing I saw was a smear of blood on the wall in the shape of a handprint. Closing my eyes briefly, I entered the room.

A boy, no older than 17 or 18 was sprawled on the ground, clutching what appeared to be rock with some obscure writing on it. His front was riddled with bullet holes, close to twenty of them. Kneeling down, I slid his eyes shut. Next to the boy was a woman, who appeared to be his mother. Her body was stretched out in front of his, almost like she had protected him until a bullet had found its way to her as well.

Turning around, I saw man with long brown hair propped on a barrel, a trickle of blood tracing its way down his cheek, his flannel shirt soaked in what appeared to be a mixture of blood and oil.

"Oh my god." I breathed. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god." Making sure not to look at the man or the boy and his mother, I made my way into the next room, praying that the carnage would end there.

It didn't. Two more men were laid out on the ground, one in a long trench coat, the other in a green jacket. Trench coat's body was draped over the other man's, in a clear attempt to keep him alive They both looked content, as if they had done something right.

Shaking my head in horror, I backed out of the room, almost tripping over a fireplace poker when I realized what the ash-like substance spread across the floor and across the green jacket man's arm was shaped like. It seemed like wings, huge, ashy wings coming from the trench coat man's back.

Stumbling away, I realized I was crying. _What the hell happened here? What the hell is going on here?_

* * *

Two days later, I watch as a gangly man in a worn out baseball cap comes into the station. He looks upset, and almost knocks over a woman trying to get to the front.

"Hello Mr…" The intern at the desk says, grasping for a last name.

"Garth." He says, agitated. "You've got something of mine. I need to talk to whoever found…found…" He chokes for a second, and squeezes his eyes shut. "Whoever found those bodies a couple days ago."

Interrupting the man, I come out of my office. "That would be me. Laura, I'll take it from here."

Leading the man away, I started to talk. "You know who the victims were? Can you identify the bodies?"

The man looks at me and then at the ground. "They were my family."


End file.
